


what this is

by sarcasticfishes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BOOM where did that angst come from, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, pre 4x11, this was just supposed to be wall sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 05:54:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2377226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticfishes/pseuds/sarcasticfishes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s so easy for him to work her up like this, murmur sweetly against her mouth, get her wet with the simplest insinuation, appealing to her most base instinct. To mate. To fuck. <i>God</i>, she wants it all the time - wants him all the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what this is

**Author's Note:**

> Literally just porn from the get go. I got carried away thinking about Malia's thighs, I'm sorry. Written as a precursor to 4x11 when Malia tries to wake Stiles up because he promised he'd bring her into school. Unbeta'd SINCERE APOLOGIES.

"Stiles," she breathes out against his lips, sounding a little desperate, a little frantic, everything she doesn't want to be. It’s so easy for him to work her up like this, murmur sweetly against her mouth, get her wet with the simplest insinuation, appealing to her most base instinct. To mate.To fuck.  _God_ , she wants it all the time - wants  _him_  all the time. And he gives it to her, but he's a damn tease. He’s cupping her face, kissing her, slowly rutting into her where he's sunk inside her, but she wants more than just this, no patience for his pace.

“C’mon,” she whines, writhes against him where he has her pinned.

"You can do it," he says to her, licks into her mouth wetly, tugging at her lower lip with his teeth, "Baby I know you can. Fuck yourself on my cock. C'mon. I know you can."

She moans into his mouth, shuddering hard, legs tight around his waist and her back against the door. There's no leverage here, and he's in no hurry either, barely moving, languidly kissing her as she tugs and pulls at his shirt and tries to urge him to move. She thrusts her hips, grinding, and she can feel him smiling against her mouth like he knows it’s not enough for her.

“Stiles, please,” she says, _pleads_ , and he just pushes a hand into her hair, thumbs her lips open with the other.

“You can do it. You’re so strong,” he says, voice throaty in the way it gets when they fuck, like his brain can’t quite get the words from his chest to his mouth. She loves it. Her head _thunk_ s back against the door, her fingers clenching in his shirt as she tries to find purchase, to use him the way he wants her to. She can feel the denim of his jeans against her calves, isn’t quite sure how he can be so calm, so unhurried now when just minutes ago he’d been too eager to even undress.

“Damn right I am,” she breathes, her knees locking against his hips, thighs burning as she pushes herself up. She slips her arms around his neck and _oh_ it feels so good, just sinking back down onto him, feeling him fill her like this, the slick stretch of it, the feeling of completion.

“There you go,” he whispers, pretty mouth pressed just below her chin as she bares him her neck, and tries again to lift herself. It’s not so hard the second time, and Stiles groans, nipping at the flesh of her throat, huffing out a soft little “yeah,” when she bears down. It takes a minute to get into it, to find her strength, but then she’s really riding him, and Stiles is letting out these punched out little groans, grunts against her neck. It’s not quiet at all, she can hear the door creaking in its frame, Stiles’ encouragements, her own little moans, noises she can’t hold in whenever he tells her how good she is for him.

It’s just them, but it’s overwhelming, and she can’t believe she ever thought about giving this up. Not when he’s the only one who _gets_ her. When he’s the only one who can make her feel like this.

Carefully, Stiles tips her chin down, looks her in the eye.

“I can’t watch you walk away again. Please.”

She gasps, her leg slipping off his hip, and he scoops her up again, his hips snapping into her as she cries out and he says, “ _Malia_.”

“I won’t,” she pants, trembling, _she means it, damnit_ , “I’m _sorry_ , I-”

She’s not sure what this is, what she wants to say, just knows that what she has with Stiles, she hasn’t had with anyone else. It’s not just sex, it’s not so straightforward and carnal, but it’s the way he smiles at her, says her name, helps her, believes in her. The way it feels when he stands next to her, pushes her hair back behind her ear, kisses her. And now, _now_ , there’s this. There’s him looking her in the eye when he starts to fuck her in earnest, his mouth hot a pliant when he brushes it against hers, when he licks at her throat and she scrapes her nails down.

The angle is perfect, her clit against his pelvic bone when he drives into her, she sharp zing of pleasure the heat of his hands, against her hip, cupping her face.

“Don’t leave me again,” he breathes, “I really- I love you.”

 _Oh_. That’s what this is.

“I’m-”

“Yeah.”

“ _Please_.”

“ _Malia_.”

She kisses him when she comes, her cries too loud even muffled by his mouth, shivering as he wraps his arms around her waist, helping to lift her on his cock again and again until she’s pulling away, too sensitive inside. He’s shaking too, so close that he gasps when she slips the condom off of him and sinks down to her knees.

“Can I-?” the question hangs for a second while Malia slips the straps of her tanktop down off her shoulders.Stiles tucks her hair back behind her ear and she almost laughs, kisses his fingertips before he gets a hand around his cock with long, sure strokes.

“On my face, if you want,” she says, eyes falling closed.

Stiles chokes out an “oh god,” and then he’s coming, and Malia listens, focuses in on his erratic breathing, his heartbeat, the way he whispers her name under his breath, her thighs are shaking. _Yeah_ , she thinks, _I love you too_.  And inside, her coyote preens a little, now that he’s marked her as his too.

“Uh,” Stiles says from somewhere in front of her, “We didn’t think that through. Lemme get you a tissue.”

“Idiot,” she mutters.

“ _Hales_ ,” Stiles exasperates from across the room, and then he’s gently cleaning her off, lips pressed in a tight line in an effort to hide his smirk when she opens her eyes. He’s kneeling before her, hasn’t even got his pants up all the way, and Malia snorts at the sight.

Stiles, giggling, dives in for a kiss.

“I meant it,” he murmurs, “it wasn’t just a heat of the moment thing. I love you. Just didn’t know until you were gone. You don’t have to say it, if you don’t want to. If you’re not ready, I understand.”

“I do,” Malia says quietly from where she’s kneeling, “I do. I love you. And need you. Your patience.Your understanding.”

Stiles smiles, the corner of his lip quirking up in that way that makes her heart skip.

“So we have a deal, then?”

Malia’s halfway to standing, but she holds her hand out to him, her littlest finger extended.

“Deal,” she says, as he hooks his pinky through hers, and she grabs his wrist to tug him from the floor onto his shaking legs. “As long as you drive me into school early, in the morning. You’ve got practise, I gotta study.”

“Of course,” Stiles says, still smiling as he pulls back the covers, sliding in and waiting for her to curl up behind him. Malia feels like with everything she’s endured so far, she might have finally lucked out in having someone like Stiles to love her, “Anything you want.”


End file.
